


Red Light

by Dusty_Forgotten



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Police, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Dubious Consent, Inspired by Music, Kidnapping, M/M, Physical Abuse, Police Brutality, Prostitution, Sexual Abuse, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 19:33:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9457454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty_Forgotten/pseuds/Dusty_Forgotten
Summary: Kylo couldn’t be quite sure if the cop that had been hanging around his stroll really wanted an arrest or was looking to score— until he was bent over the hood of the cruiser in cuffs.Nothing new for a prostitute. The hard-on brushing the back of his thigh, however, was new.Cheek pressed to the dusty car, Kylo figured, fuck it. He was already going to jail. “It’s on the house if you let me walk.”Officer Hux— as Kylo would soon learn, scribbled and stashed along with his badge number under the only lamp in his apartment in case he never came back— shoved his face into the hood until the cartilage in his nose bent and his eyes watered. “You’re going to regret that.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> [Mean by Nicole Dollanganger](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6lwzGsvCg90)

There’s nothing worse than a boring blowjob. Even the ones that slap him around and force him down until the phlegm comes out his nose are better than the ones that don’t have enough to choke him on. Cruel johns don’t whine about their wives or how much better he deserves— and he can’t hear them when he’s half-blacked out, anyway.

Kylo huffs through his nose, nothing in his throat, and the trick moans. God, Kylo wishes he would finish already; he smells like baby powder and Davidoff cologne.

A single bark of a siren flicked behind them, and Kylo hits the back of his head on the steering wheel sitting up so quick. Trick zips his fly way too fast to be safe, and after a couple seconds of frenzied jingling, rips his belt off and chucks it in back. Kylo’s still rubbing at the sprouting bump on his head by the time the cop reaches them and double-taps the driver’s side window. The john rolls the manual crank all the way, like the taxpaying middle class white guy he is. “Is there a problem, officer?”

“No parking zone,” the cop replies, leaning down to get a good look at the interior.

“Oh, uh, I didn’t know. Sorry, sir.”

“I suspect that’s the least of your concerns…” Kylo rubs at his head, tries not to let on he knows the attention’s on him. “Hello, Ben.”

He winces, and lets his hand slide to the back of his neck, ready for the whiplash. “Hey, Hux.”

“You mind stepping out for me?”

Kylo closes his eyes, squeezes the tension out of his neck, and swallows. Works up the courage to open the door. Hux watches, one hand on the roof of the car while he conspires with the driver, “I see you around here again, I’m taking you in. Got it?”

Knuckles white around the steering wheel, staring ahead like the engine’s running, john nods. “Yes, sir.”

“Get moving.” Hux straightens up, takes exactly one stride back, and holds Kylo’s eyes as the car starts and rolls out from between them. He wants to run after it.

Uniform oxfords splash puddles in the pavement, left by last night’s rain that kept Kylo doing in-calls from his apartment, but couldn’t keep Hux away. “Parking code don’t apply to you, huh?”

Halfway there and already too close for comfort, Hux puts his hands on his hips— one by his cuffs, the other just above his gun. “Don’t get cocky with me.”

Kylo flinches when Hux reaches for his face, because the last time he did, it was to black his eye. He just grazes his knuckles over Kylo’s cheekbone, sets him shaking. Looks him down and up— low as he can for how close he is— and whispers, “Turn around.”

Engines idle at the stoplight just past the alley Kylo’s trapped in, but he does as he’s told. Witnesses have never been anything but trouble for him.

Hux takes Kylo’s wrists together and cuffs them there; knows he doesn’t need to— Kylo isn’t going anywhere, never has— but it gets him hard. The concrete wall he’s crowded to is nowhere near the filthiest thing he’s been fucked against today, having been washed by the rain not so long ago.

“Stay still,” Hux tells him, and Kylo spreads his legs and crooks his knees, negates those couple inches he has on the officer. The arm the snakes around his neck is only a surprise because Hux usually doesn’t bring out the chokehold until he’s inside him: likes to leave him greyed out on the pavement with one more load dripping down his legs. He buckles, gasps, but doesn’t fight it. Hux must have pulled hundreds of these before they were banned, and he doesn’t want Kylo dead, anyway, just slack and pliable.

Kylo’s blacked out before he can consider he might be wrong.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

This is way too soft for asphalt.

Grey upholstery under his face, smells like bleach. Far from the first time he’s been facedown in the back of Hux’s Crown Vic, more than once with a cock up his ass. Kylo groans as he manages to sit up, more out of frustration than the pervasive soreness.

“Morning, sunshine,” Hux mocks over the rhythm of his turn signal.

God, there is no leg-room back here. “I keep your balls empty, you keep me out of jail. That was the deal, right?”

Hux adjusts his rearview mirror until Kylo can see himself, so Hux can see him, too. “Take it up with my supervisor.”

He can’t sit back, hands bound behind him. Seatbelt seems to have been disregarded as well, because Hux doesn’t care about the law. He thinks he _is_ the law. “You ever get sick of dragging me to the station ten times a week? People are gonna start to wonder why you’re always bringing in the same hooker and never the tricks.”

“That’s not a concern anymore.”

Classic cryptic bullshit. Kylo catches his eyes in the rearview, met only with smugness. Hux changes lanes, and that’s when it occurs to Kylo: the police station is the other way.

“You have obviously made some terrible decisions, Ben,” Hux points out, ready to take a highway on-ramp and take Kylo God-knows-where, “but trusting me may just be your worst.”

There’s a chill on his skin, and it’s not the A/C. “… Hux, where are you taking me?”

Looking over his shoulder through the grate that separates them, a streetlamp and stoplight shining in through the windshield, Hux imparts, “Wherever I want.”

**Author's Note:**

> **Epilogue**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> She knows the key fits the lock— the landlord gave it to her— but she still has to bump it with all her weight to get the door open. It’s not as dirty as she had been expecting inside, but far from nice.
> 
> “What did you say his name was again?” Phasma questions, flicking the light switch and stepping inside.
> 
> Hux follows, observant. “Ben Solo. He went by Kylo.” He picks up a stack of bills from the side table, spots another assortment of envelopes torn in the trash.
> 
> “He’s been gone three weeks now?”
> 
> “More like four.”
> 
> Phasma sees the sink empty, and takes the nitrile gloves from her duty belt. “You’re sure he didn’t just leave?”
> 
> Hux sighs, shakes his head at the made bed. “I don’t know…” Somewhere among all the ashes in the bottom of a broken drinking glass is the butt of a cigarette with Hux’s saliva on it. Like anyone’s going to DNA test a hooker’s ashtray. “He always talked about leaving, but he wasn’t serious.”
> 
> Phasma crouches, and begins poking in cabinets. “You think one of his buyers is involved?”
> 
> “I hope not.” He swipes his thumb through the dust on the bedside table, rubs it off. “He has a bit of a reputation for taking the tricks no one else will.” There’s a ring around the base of the lamp, where the ubiquitous dust is mysteriously absent. Hux lifts the lamp, and slides a scrap of paper out from under it. Turning it over, he finds his name in Kylo’s handwriting.
> 
> Removing her gloves, Phasma stands. “If this were a case, I’d close it. There’s nothing of value here, and there’s not exactly anything keeping him in the area but debt.”
> 
> Hux balls the paper up in his hand, loose at his side. “I feel responsible. If he’s dead in a ditch, or chained up in someone’s spare bedroom, I may be the only one who knows.”
> 
> “Armitage, I’m going to tell you something I’m amazed you haven’t learned already.” She joins him by the bed, a mere few strides from any other point in the one-room apartment. “Some people aren’t worth saving.”
> 
> Tucking his thumbs into his belt (and the paper in his pocket), Hux frowns at a bloodstain on the pillowcase he’s probably the cause of. “I suppose you’re right.”


End file.
